This is war
by m3rwh0l0ck3d
Summary: The battle for Camelot had been won. But the war was just begining. (AU- set after s5. Sort of.) Chapter 8 is now up! Please read and review!
1. Whispers in the night

"Merlin...help me..."

The young warlock awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright, shivering in the cool air. A full moon shone through the window, spilling light onto the bed. Aside from a dog barking somewhere in the darkness, all was silent. Uneasily he sank back against the pillow, already half asleep.

"Help...Merlin...Please!"

He shot out of bed, now completely awake. That voice, he hadn't heard it in over a year. It was the voice of Morgana Pendragon.

With that realisation came a surge of fear. How could she be here, in Camelot, in his room?

Mind muddled by sleep, it took Merlin several seconds to realise that she simply couldn't. She was, after all, dead.

"Merlin..."

And yet there was the evidence that seemed to suggest the exact opposite. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, like Morgana was very much alive, and was trying to talk to him.

Feeling both dazed and confused, Merlin stumbled through the door that seperated his room from the rest of the physicans chambers. Despite the lateness of the hour, Gaius was still sat up, poring over some ancient text, squinting slightly in the candlelight. Without looking up, he asked

"Is everything alright?"

Wordlessly, Merlin made his way across the room, clutching his head in one hand, before slumping into the chair opposite Gaius.

"I don't know..."

Only then did Gaius look up, concern etched into his aged features.

"Merlin. What's wrong?"

"It's Morgana" he blurted out suddenly. "It's like I can hear her. In here." Merlin tapped his skull, badly diguised fear apparent in his eyes.

"But she's dead!" Gaius replied incredulously.

"I know. But somehow, she's talking to me. Asking me for help."

The evnts of the last few months played through Gaius' mind and, quelling the desire to ask a multitude of questions, he stood, returning to the table with a bottle of blue liquid.

"Well we can't do anything about it now. It's best if we wait until morning. Drink this," he instructed, "It will help you to sleep."

Merlin glanced at Gaius, then sighed and took the botle, downing its contents in a single gulp, the affects of which were already making him feel pleasantly sleepy.

"Now back to bed."

Amiably, Merlin stood and lurched back up to his room. When he was halfway up the steps, Gaius called

"And Merlin,"

The magican turned around

"Don't worry. We'll sort it in the morning."


	2. Shadows of the past

Authors note: This is my first fanfiction so reviews are greatly appreciated. This chapter and the next are basically my idea of what should have happened in the battle. I may make this into a story of its own right later on. Thanks to my good friend VJ Spencer fo r their review (The first one I have ever recieved). Anyway, enjoy and the next chapter will be up in a few days.

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Sleep came fitfully that night, despite the potions rapid effect. Nightmares ravaged across the landscape of Merlin's mind, preventing him from resting properly. Through his dreams, he relived, the battle for Camelot, on the plain at Camlann. He was aware of the jagged scar in his shoulder, which ached constantly, just one several dozen wounds he had aquired during the fighting. In fact, both himself and Morgana had recieved a multitude of injuries, cuts, bruises and broken bones making up their shattered frames. From the outset, they had seemed evenly matched, in injuries, if not magical powers. The fight could've just as easily been lost through bloodloss, as it could through magic, and the same held true for both of them.

At least that was true until the arrow hit. It had been a soldier of Camelot who'd fired it, either aiming at the vast bulk of the army opposite, or at Morgana herself. Either way he was the one who got hit. He'd blinked in shock as blinding pain began to course through his body.

"I've been shot." Merlin mumbled, staring at Morgana's once beautiful face, before sinking to his knees in the dust.

She'd sneered, voice cold "And so the mighty Emrys falls. I suppose, after everything that's happened, death must come as a relief."

A sudden wave of strength swept through Merlin, undoubtably born of his magic powers. His fist tightened around Excalibur, the sword forged in a dragons breath, which he'd found lying on the bloodstained battle ground, it's owner not the sight.

With a lurch, Merlin stepped forwards, plunging the blade deep into the sorceresses chest. Her eyes widened in shock, lips frantically forming a word. I'm sorry. A single tear dripped from her face, sorrow lining her ruined features. Then she was still.

Time seemed to slow down as Merlin stood, swaying gently, staring down at the body before him. Instinctively, moving as one, the two great armies ducked behind their shields.

An explosion ripped the sky apart. Shadows flew from the body of Morgana, filling the air like the flocks of starlings he used to enjoy watching. They twisted and turned, screeching angrily. With no shield or armour to protect him, Merlin fell before the onslaught as the spirits attacked at his consciousness. He heard a scream, but didn't connect it to himself. The world went black and as quickly as it had started, the noise ceased and silence reigned.

He'd first woken about a week later, in his own bed, back in Camelot. Candles flickered softly in the quiet.

"Still no change." he'd heard Gaius murmer, "I've tried my best but his injuries may yet prove fatal. What worries me most is the damage to his mind." The blurred figures shifted slightly in front of him.

"I'll have to inform his mother. She has a right to know." A second voice, belonging to Arthur. He sounded tired, ill even. Something else was said, but it seemed quieter, as though the world was fading away from him.

Through the haze that followed, Merlin was only dimly aware of the people around him. Gaius was there the most, tending to his injuries. Gwen came once or twice, only staying for a few minutes on each occassion. Throughout it all, his mother remained his constant companion. She mopped his fevered brow, dished small amounts of water into his mouth, but mostly she sang; sang songs from his childhood, melodies half forgotten, always in the same soft voice. But as time wore on, she seemed to become less hopeful and more desperate. Gaius sat next to her one night, and in a voice Merlin had heard so many times before, he said,

"There's been no change. It's been almost a month. Whatever has happened to him, I think it's beyond my power to change. I'm so sorry. I really am." He heard his mother cryig softly next to him, but was unable to comfort her as her tears continued far into the night.

Sometime later someone else entered the room, slipping quietly in through the door. They'd cooled his forehead, then sat in the chair next to him, saying,

"Please Merlin, you have to wake up. For me, if no one else. I need you, now more than ever. You saved my kingdom and my life. I know the truth now and it doesn't matter. Not whilst you're like this. I haven't got another servant. The jobs yours for as long as you want it. You once told me that you were happy to be my servant, until the day you die. And I'm happy to have you. Just stop this messing around. I want you up and out of this bed. I'm OK with you having the odd day off, but this is just getting silly." He paused and took a deep breath, as though he was regretting what he was going to say next

"Please come back Merlin. I can't lose you as well."

The figure stood up, as though embarrased, and turned abruptly, preparing to leave.

With a great effort of will, Merlin forced his eyes to open.

"Arthur..." he'd whispered, breathlessly, then grimaced. It hurt to breathe, let alone talk.

It didn't matter though, he'd heard. The king turned slowly, shock apparent on his face. Merlin closed his eyes momentarily, head lolling to the side, too weak to move anymore.

"Gaius!" Arthur called, not taking his eyes off of the figure lying in the bed. Sensing the urgency in his voice, Gaius hurried up the stairs and into the room.

"What's happened?" he exclaimed. Meanwhile, the noise had woken Hunith, who raised her head sleepily, looking around in alarm. Then she saw her sons eyes open and she began to cry, but this time, they were tears of joy. The room that had been silent just a few moments before filled with activity, and all the while Merlin stared onwards, feeling far too weak to move anymore and reluctant to return to the darkness thag had encased him.


	3. Aftermath

**A/N: I am having great fun writing this and I hope you're enjoying reading it.**

**All reviews, good and bad, are greatly appreciated.**

**If you have any questions abouf what is happening, feel free to message me.**

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As the days rolled into weeks and the weeks into months, Merlin gradually recovered. Scars began to form over the wounds as the injuries to his body healed. With each passing day, he grew stronger, could stomach more food and could stay awake for longer, before sleep finally over took him. His skeletal frame began to fade as it was covered by a layer of flesh that coated his bones. At first he could do little more than sit up, surrounded by pillows. But as his strength returned, so did his feeling of determination. Before long, he was standing and then he took the first staggering steps as he forced his broken body to move again. His joints squealed in protest and his thighs burnt angrily as he stumbled forwards, despite the fact that he was being supported on both sides.

But the injuries to his mind took alot longer to heal. Everytime he fell asleep, he had the same nightmare of battles and bloodshed, which in variably resulted in him waking up, screaming into the darkness. He viewed the world through a glazed expression, each thought, no matter how simple, taking an age to arrive. Despite the fact that he'd once enjoyed the company of others, Merlin had become a shell of his former self, prefering not communicating at all. His newly rebuilt consciousness felt weak, as though, it would shatter at the slightest knock. And for this reason alone, did Merlin feel if was better if he hid himself away within his own mind, sheltering there until it became safe to emerge.

The seasons rolled by until Camelot was, once again, gripped in the midst of an icy winter. One night, as the snow fell softly on the sleeping kingdom outside, the nightmares returned, but with an intesity far worse than any previously. Unable to escape the torment of his dreams, Merlin began to scream, begging for release, whilst his body thrashed desperately at the sound continued for longer than it had ever done previously, reaching a volume loud enough to wake the dead. Gaius rushed in, as did his mother, both trying to comfort him, but both unable to wake him. Several times he vomited blindly, which only served to make his ordeal worse. Eventually, as the sun rose, the fit subsided back into silence and he returned to sleep.

Merlin opened his eyes later that morning and felt, for want of a better word, well again. He rembered very little about what he'd been through and prefered to keep it that way. Someone had changed his shirt during the night, and extra blankets were placed around him. He was no longer afraid of his past, instead he was looking forwards to starting a new future. For the first time in a long time, he dressed himself and made his way out of his room for breakfast.

His mother and Gaius were sat around the table, quietly discussing something. They stopped the instant they heard the door open, looking up at him in amazment.

"My boy..." Hunith had said, rushing over to hug him. They'd stayed like that for a long while and it was only then that Merlin noticed just how old his mother looked.

About a week or so later, Merlin returned to work, under strict instructions from almost everyone who knew him to not overdo himself. Arthur was kinder to him than he had been before, and as such, Merlin was usually only left with the easier tasks. He appreciated it, as it gave him something to do, something to focus on. Despite the fact that Arthur knew about his magic, he refrained from using it on a day to day basis wholly believing that it was better that way.

He had good days and bad days, good minutes and bad minutes. Some days he felt bright and optimistic, almost back to his old self. On those occasions life appeared to have returned to normality. But other times, he felt encased in a dark cloud that seemed to hang over him. It would be a struggle to get up in the morning and even the most simple tasks were difficult to complete. When that happened, Arthur was a little kinder to him, allowing him to leave his duties earlier than usual and for this, Merlin was grateful. Even so, he was no longer the same person who had been at the battle. The changes were subtle but were most definitely there. He could no longer keep up a constant stream of chatter and preferred to keep to himself, rather than interfere with matters that didn't concern him. Sometimes he would stand with a far away look, as though he couldn't remember what he was doing or how he got there.

The worse effect was the damage to his memories. Whole years had disappeared from his mind, beyond recollection. The knights or Arthur would be talking about some event or other, perhaps reminising, but when asked for his opinion, Merlin was quite simply unable to respond. The big things were still there, such as Uthers death, finding his father, losing some of his closest friends, but the smaller details had gone. Little things, like his favourite colour, which he later found out to be blue, or what Arthurs favourite meal was. These infuriated him beyond belief, leaving him with a sense of helplessness; if he couldn't even recall details about himself, then what use was he to anyone?

Alot, apparently. Even though he could no longer do quite the same level of jobs as he could before, there was always something he had to do, be it washing clothes, polishing armour or mucking out horses. Alongside this Gaius was using his skills as a physican ,more and more and it was in this manner that life reached a new normality, aside from the key difference that his mother was now living in Camelot, having taken up a position in the palace kitchen.

Merlin awoke just as light began to filter in through the window. He was trembling slightly, a cold sweat covering his body. For a few moments he lay perfectly still, the events of the previous night playing through his mind, aware of the beginings of a headache throbbing behind his eyes. Sighing, he stood and dressed hurridly. Outside the sky was completely clear and birds heralded a new dawn whilst a light wind ruffled the tree tops. He threw his jacket on the wound his way into the main room. A note was propped up against a fruit bowl. It read:

"Needed to stock up on some supplies. I'll be back later. I've made you some lunch. Don't get into trouble and I will see you later."

Merlin smiled, ruefully. Everytime he went anywhere, Gaius seemed to expect him to get into trouble. But, then again, he usually did. Suddenly aware of the time, he snatched up his midday meal and grabbed an apple out of the bowl, eating it as he strode from the room.


	4. Lost friends

**Authors Note: Thanks for reading this far. It means alot to me.**

**Thanks to the reviews and I think that the next few chapters are something of a build up to the main storyline.**

**Please continue to read and review, whether good or bad.**

Arthur paced impatiently around the room, cursing both the lateness of the hour and the laziness of his servant. Normally, it wouldn't bother him; being the ruler of a kingdom still in the process of rebuilding itself, he appreciated any sleep he could get. It wasn't uncommon for him to fall asleep past midnight, having to get up deal with some disturbance or other just a couple of hours later. But today, despite no such bother, he had woken long before the dawn. In the small hours of the morning he had awoke suddenly, as though someone had been shouting in his ear. Something, like a half forgotten memory, flitted away from him before he could sieze it. Quietly, so as to not wake Guinevere, he had slipped of bed and gone to stand at the window to look at his kingdom beyond. In the dark of the night, he could make out very little. Frustrated and unable to return to sleep, he began to pace the room, silently at first, then quicker and taking bolder steps as his annoyance grew. As he tread a groove in the floor with his constant steps between table and window, window and table, his mind wandered.

He thought of the progress of the kingdom and how much remained to be done. He thought of his father and wondered if he would be proud of his son, he thought of his mother and wondered what she would have said. He thought of the knights, the friends he had lost and the ones who had had their lives torn apart. He thought of Merlin, and what his closest friend had been through, instantly feeling guilty for being so hard on him. He thought of his wife and queen. She'd been at his side for so long now, he had almost forgotten her humble roots. She had approached the role with a gentle air of dignity and justice, so profound he sometimes found it difficult to remember she had once been a simple maid.

Eventually, inevitably, his thoughts turned to Morgana and with them came the Sarrums angry words, eching in his mind.

"I kept her, like an animal." Anger bubbled inside him as he remembered the fierce, bloodthirsty joy in the sarrums eyes as he recollected the account of how he had tortured her and the dragon, the only creature alive who appeared to love her. Love such a simple word and such a complicated curse. To watch ones loved one suffer is something that no one should have to endure, no matter who they are.

In all of his time as prince he had known exactly what kingdom he had wanted. He had wanted a Camelot that was fair and just, where the punishment met the crime. But more than that, he wanted to be a king the people liked, one that they trusted. He wanted to be able to help them. Mostly, he wanted to give the people a chance to begin again. He wanted them to have a chance of retribution, no matter what thier crimes. If they were truly sorry, he would help them. Even Morgana.

For all of her faults, and there were many, he didn't believe her to be an intrinsically evil person; instead just one that made all of the wrong choices. The Morgana he'd known had been a good, kind person who'd tried her best to help the poor and the sick, but refused to be ruled over by anyone else. She was the kind of person Arthur had hoped to become and he didn't believe that beneath all the layers of fear and blame she had disappeared forever. Even when she was trying to kill him, he had clung onto the desperate hope that she could still be saved.

Or she could be, if she wasn't dead. Arthur forced himself to take slow, steadying breaths as a wave of grief washed over him for another lost friend, for that is what he considered her to be, a friend he couldn't save.

Even when she was bent on his destruction, he hadn't hated her. Feared her? Yes. Disliked her? Certainly. But not hated. There was too much history between them for that. They had grown up together after all, the only children in a palace full of nobles. Some of his fondest memories were of the two of them together, racing through the castle, bashing at each other with makeshift swords and then being scolded for skipping their lessons. As they'd got older, they remained close friends; he envied her determination and fearlessness, whilst she envied his relationship with his father. Their father. When he found out that they were siblings, he had been shocked. He hadn't, for one moment suspected that they could be related. As he got used to the idea, it began to please him, especially the knowledge that he was not alone.

He started as the door clattered open.

"Merlin!" he yelled, without needing to turn around, "You could wake the whole of Camelot with your noise." He span on heels to glare at his servant, hands on his hips.

"Where have you been!? I've been waiting ages for you."

Slightly out of breath, Merlin replied, the shock evident in his voice,

"You're dressed?!"

Incredulously, Arthur exclaimed

"As a king I do possess some skills," although he did understand the other mans shock. Usually, he would wait until Merlin had arrived to dress him, deeming the task too trivial to do for himself, but this in the early hours of the morning, he had reached a level of boredom that resulted in him attempting to prepare himself for the day. Never a bid to hide his embarrassment, he said,

"Anyway, do you ever listen to a word I say?" already knowing the answer, "I asked where have you been."

Only then did he take in the tired, drawn look his servant had.

"What is the matter with you? You look like you haven't slept."

That's probably because I haven't." Merlin replied.

Annoyed that he was going to have to spend the day with a tired, so almost useless servant, but not wanting to press for more answers, Arthur shrugged.

"Well I can't help you with that. Come on, lots to do."

He attempted to keep his voice light, as though he couldn't care less, but there was no fooling Merlin. The other man had been his best friend for a long time and there were virtually no secrets between the two. Before he had the chance to respond, the king swept from the room, forcing the loyal servant to practically run to catch up.

Within a few short minutes, they had reached the kings personal study. All offical business was still conducted in the council chambers, but shortly after the bloodshed that been Camlann, he'd decided that he needed a room of his own to make his desicions, with only a handful of trusted confidants, hopefully reducing the possibility of traitors.

The room he had chosen had been, in what felt like another life, Morgana's. He wasn't exactly sure why he had chosen them, but out of all the rooms in the castle, and there were plenty, these just felt right. Whenever he was in there, he felt a ghost of her, like a shadow of his previous life, reminding him of what he had lost and how much remained to be achieved.

"Did you put those there?" he asked, indicating a vase of white lillies in the window.

Merlin shook his head. "No they were already there when I came in this morning."

The king nodded once, puzzled by thd flowers mysterious presence. Deciding to ask someone else about it later, he shrugged and sat down at the table, looking forwards to his breakfast.

He had barely begun to eat, when the door swung open, and Sir Leon, one of his closest friends burst in.

"Sire." He bowed once, "Your presence is needed urgently. A matter of great urgency has arisen in the council chambers."

Cursing silently, he stood to his feet and rushed from the room, his morning meal barely touched.


	5. Around the fire

**_Authors note: Apologies for the wait._**

**_The first half of this chapter is a sort of filler, but it definitely pivks up for the second half._**

**_Again enjoy and reviews are greatly appriciated._**

**_As usual I don't own Merlin or the characters._**

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Despite the exhaustion that he felt from his lack of sleep and the increasing sense of apprehension growing in his stomach, Merlin was enjoying himself. The sun was shining brightly down through the trees and the birds were singing in the gentle breeze; the perfect day for a ride. The track that they followed was well worn and the woods that surrounded them were like a second home, having stayed within thier shadows so many times before, He rode next to Arthur, as he always had done, Gwaine following behind them, the latter talking animatedly to Sir Patrick, the oldest knight in their group, who looked thoroughly disgruntled at finding himself next to the talkative youth. Despite his loyal, true nature very few people could stand being with Gwaine for very long. He had a habit of talking alot, but saying very little, a tendancy only made worse when he had been drinking. Sir Patrick, suprisingly unaware of this little fact, should therefore have been grateful that Gwaine was, unusually, sober. Merlin, meanwhile was humming softly to himself, fully aware that it was probably annoying Arthur and enjoying it all the more for that reason.

"What exactly is wrong with you?" Arthur, asked, suddenly, startling the warlock. "Just this morning you were acting as though you had never been happy, now look at you!"

Merlin grinned. The king might act annoyed, but in truth, he was secretly pleased that his servant was back to normal. Having served him everyday for almost as long as he had been in Camelot, Merlin knew his friend almost better than he knew himself. Even so, he couldn't resist the oppurtunity to annoy him.

"I can't expect you to understand."

Arthur scoffed and Merlin's grin widened; now he was curious.

"Oh stop pretending to be interesting. Tell me."

"Say please. Manners don't hurt, do they?"

From just behind him, Merlin heard Gwaine unsucessfully attempt to cover up his laughter. Apparently, he had been listening.

Arthur wasn't amused.

"Need I remind you that I am your king and you cannot address me like that," the disbelief that someone would dare to do so evident in his voice.

Merlin shrugged and said, offhandedly

"King you may be. But you're also something of a prat and that, my friend, gives me all the inclination I need."

If Gwaine had been unsucessful at disguising his laughter hefore, he shouldn't even have attempted to this time; the resulting noise sounded like a cross between a snort and a braying donkey. For some reason, this seemed to annoy Arthur even more.

With a measure of self calm taught over the years, the king stated, loud enough for all to hear,

"Careful there, I could charge you with treason, if I really wanted to. Now go and ride with Gwaine. He at least seems to find your terrible jokes funny. And annoy me again and you will be running the rest of the way. Understand?" Without waiting for a response, he kicked his horse forwards, leaving space for the knight to steer his mount into the gap.

Merlin smiled to himself. Not a day went by without Arthur fussing over him if he appeared even slightly ill. Whilst his concern was touching, it got annoying. Gwaine, on the other hand, realised that what he needed was for people to just carry on as they had before the battle.

"Look at him," Gwaine said, suddenly, "pretending to not care. We all know it's just an act."

Merlin relaxed in his saddle, pleased to find his friend next to him.

"Yeah. It's probably just for his self esteem."

The knight chuckled and grinned across at him, whilst all the while, they continued to wind their way through the woods.

It was still dark when Merlin woke and, judging by the flickering of the flames in the campfire, he hadn't been asleep for long, only long enough for the rest of the party to have fallen asleep. Well all of the group except for Arthur, who had, as usual, decided to take the first watch. The clearing they were in was familiar and the ground was scarred with the ashes of innumerable campfires. They had stopped here so many times before that it was one if the few places in Camelot that felt relatively safe. From the group of knights resting up against the trees came the gentle sound of snoring and from somewhere beyond in the darkness a horse stamped its hoof. Unable to return to sleep, Merlin stood, gathering his blankets, his breath frosting in front of face. He moved to sit next to Arthur, who was leaning up against a tall oak, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The king acknowledged his presence with a breif nod, then resumed his watching of the darkness between the trees. For a long time neither spoke, but for once, Merlin was happy with this arrangment. His mind wandered as his thoughts drifted; from remembering the times long since gone, to his fears of the future and what it may hold. Despite the victory at Camlann, there were still many who wished the king dead, namely Mordred, the druid boy and fallen knight who hadn't been seen since the very begining of the battle on the great plain. All along, he had been warned of the younger mans betrayal, but had been unwilling to do anything. It had almost cost him his life. A shiver ran down his spine as he considered this. By all rights he should be dead. But then again, that was the story of his life. Even so, he had been remarkably lucky, luckier than he had right to believe he should be.

"What was it like?" Arthur suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Startled by the sudden conversation, Merlin was unable to answer, but that was partly because he hadn't heard the first part of the conversation.

"What?" he asked, voice sounding unusually loud in the nighttime.

"Tell me." The king repeated, "What was it like to grow up with magic?"

Merlin mulled over the question for a long while. This was the first time his friend had asked about his magic and only the second or third time he had asked about his servants past. Between them, the arrangment of leaving the past behind suited the both perfectly. If there was one similarity between them both it was that they would rather not relive the pains of the past.

Eventually, he began to speak again.

"I never knew any different. According to my mother, I could move objects with my mind before I could walk. It was a part of me, as easy and as natural as eating or breathing. But as much as I tried, I never quite fit in. My mother constantly warned me about what would happen if anyone discovered the truth and I got so used to hiding my powers, I could go for days without using it. But deep down I knew I was different." he paused for breath, lost in his narrative, "To grow up with the knowledge that you're not the same is a difficult burden. In the end, I felt better hiding behind my secrets. A few people knew, Gaius, my mother, my friend in Ealdor."

"Will." Arthur interrupted suddenly. "His name was Will."

A stab of pain lanced through Merlins heart, actual physical pain. A shadow passed breifly across his features as he attempted to cover the sorrow he felt inside.

"Yez." He replied, bluntly. "He knew. When my mother found out, she was furious. I thought she was going to send me away there and then. She didn't, but I had to be careful.

"Im surprised you remembered him. You didn't exactly see eye to eye."

The other man shrugged. Voice soft, he said, "Maybe not, but he died for me. I don't forget his sacrafice."

"Why did you want to know?" Merlin queried.

"Curiosity, I guess. In all these years, why didn't you tell me?"

"You would have killed me."

"I'm not sure what I would have done.

"And I din't want to put you in that position."

"But all this time, you never omce asked for any credit. You just carried on, acting the idiot. It must have been hard."

The warlock shrugged.

"That's not why I do it. Some men will plough fields, others will become great warriors. Me, I was born to serve you Arthur. And you know, I wouldn't change it for the world."

He paused, a smile having crept to his face.

"Not that I thought so the first time we met. You tried to kill me."

A sudden look of realisation dawned on the king's face.

"You used magic!"

"You were going to kill me!"

"You cheated!"

"You would have kiled me."

"Well, if it's any consolation, Im glad I didn't."

"Yeah. Me too."

The pair were silent for a few moments. Then Merlin said, tone almost apologetic,

"Lancelot knew."

Arthur stared, mouth open, apparently struck dumb.

"How?" he managed to articulate.

"It was an accident. Sort of. I had to save his life against a griffin. He heard and that was that. We didn't talk about it much, but when he died, I felt like I had lost one of the few people who understood me."

He stopped speaking for a moment.

"He sacraficed himself so I wouldn't have to. He saved my life, even though I had chosen to give it up."

By now, the flames had dramatically reduced in both height and intensity and the moon had passed overhead, signalling the start of a new day. Absent mindedly, he picked out a stick from inside the fire and lifted it up until the glowing embers were at eye level. Aware of Arthur watching, and hoping he wouldn't regret it, he channeled his magic into one word.

"Draca."

Sparks flew from the end of the stick, assembling themselves into a shape in the air. The Pendragon crest appeared before them, glowing brightly in the prevailing darkness.

"I use it for you, Arthur."

Returning the stick to the fire, he released the flow of magic, allowing the shape to fade into oblivion, as though it hadn't existed at all.

In a whisper so quiet that Merlin wasn't sure if he had actually heard, Arthur replied

"I know." For a while neither man spoke, until Arthur, voice having returned to it's usually volume, said,

"It's late. You should sleep."

On previous occasions, Merlin might have argued or come up with a sarcastic retort, but now he was grateful. The spell, one that he could usually perform with ease, had taken alot out of him, leaving him suddenly weary, so much so that it actually frightened him. Consumed by worry, he scooped up his blankets and wordlessly stood, returning to his place on the other side of the fire. He was dimly aware of Arthur watching him, something akin to concern on the other man's face, but right now, he didn't care. All he wanted was sleep. He'd barely settled onto his blankets when unconsciousness overtook him, his rest thankfully undisturbed by nightmares.

Unbeknown to either man, someone, something was watching.

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_I hope I did the reveal justice. In this Arthur already knows the truth but I wanted them to talk about it._

_I am truly sorry for any mistakes. I have rered it several times, but I am terrible at noticing errors. If there are any, feel free to message me and I will put them right._


	6. Rockfall

**Authors note: I think this has been the bestbchapter to write so far. It is a little long, so apologies in advance. I think this is going to become a monster-length fic as well.**

**Please review! I don't seem to get many reviews and any comments I get will definitely help me improve my writing style.**

**As always, I don't own Merlin etc. **

**Enjoy!**

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The morning dawned with the air cool and the ground underfoot damp with dew. Mist, pale and slow moving, floated through the trees and the sky above was filled with billowing white clouds.

Merlin quickly packed away his blankets, shivering in his thin jacket, breath frosting in front of his face. It was cold this morning, colder than usual. Winter must be coming, he thought, as he tacked up the horses. The season itself didn't bother him; growing up in a small village meant that there simply wasn't the time nor inclination to stop working. Most of the time, you kept busy to keep warm. What did bother him was all the extra work that Arthur deemed necessary, the extra clothing he required and the fact that there was never quite enough firewood.

But he couldn't be worrying about that now. After all, there was a meal to prepare.

Breakfast itself was a hurried affair. It seemed like nobody wanted to be hanging around and, despite the apparent safety of their location, there was an ominous air, almost as if they weren't welcome.

Merlin felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, as though someone was watching him through the trees, watching him as he finished strapping his supplies onto his horse's back. He span around, but there was no one there. Then again, there never was. Stamping his feet in an effort to ward off the cold, he stared around at the party, impatient to be leaving. For once, the group was quiet. The knights stood, waiting, a look of passive patience on their faces, as they waited for the order to break up camp. Even Gwaine had shut up.

"We should get moving!" Arthur declared suddenly.

Finally, Merlin thought, even as the group burst into a flurry of activity, each man making for his horse. That is, every man aside from Arthur, who waited across the clearing for the animal to be led to him.

Merlin led the two horses, one black, one bright bay, over to him, before swinging himself into the saddle of his faithful black mare.

"Steady." He murmered softly, soothing her as she shuffled on the spot.

At a nod from Arthur, they set off in a canter, skillfully weaving between the trees.

After around an hour of riding, they finally reached the narrow gully down which they would find the villagers. Slowing to a walk, they wound their way to a hidden clearing, almost completely hidden from view by a thick band of woodland plants.

"We'll tie the horses here. Owain, Gregory, stay here and keep lookout."

The two chosen men nodded their affirmation, as the rest began to dismount.

Once on the ground, Merlin drew a sword from a sheath that rested by the saddle, the metal blade whispering softly as it came free, the blade seeming unnaturally bright in the gloom. Before the great battle, he hadn't usually carried a sword, but now he had to, if only to put the kings mind at ease. They'd rowed about it, one of their rare arguments in which neither would back down.

The problem had arisen a few weeks after Merlin had returned to work. One morning, Arthur had decided, out of the blue, that his servant needed to be able to defend himself, despite the fact that he had managed perfectly fine up until then. Merlin was going to join the knights in their training sessions. Naturally, he refused, partly because he didn't want to make a fool of himself, but mostly beacuse he'd undertaken the role of punchbag enough times to know how painful being bashed about with a sword could be. To put it simply, he didn't see the point of going through all that misery when he could defeat all but the most powerful enemies with his magic alone. For days they argued the point until, eventually, a compromise was reached. Merlin was to have private fencing lessons with Arthur, out of sight, in order to learn how to defend himself. And despite himself, they had been fun, even if he struggled to hold off his friend for more than a couple of blows. Each week, he returned with a fresh array of bruises, but was finally begining to grasp the finer points of swordmanship. Even so, the notion of carrying a sword still seemed alien to him, having gotten so used to not being armed at all.

The narrowing rock faces forced them into single file as they advanced steathily through the gully, all of the time acutely aware of danger. This was a cursed place. Rockfalls and bandits were common and on more than one occasion they had been trapped without warning. A Sense of urgency prevailed as they hurried entered Merlins heart. It was quiet, too quiet. Where was the smoke rising, the distant chatter or the general signs of life? As soon as it was possible to, he pulled Arthurto the side, ignoring the looks of confusion they were recieving.

Quietly, so the others wouldn't hear, he said

"Does this feel right to you?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued "Think about it. There are no lookouts, no one waiting for us. I haven't seen nor heard any signs of a camp. Call it my funny feeling, but I get the impression we're not meant to be here."

It was a mark of how their relationship had changed when the taller man looked round, eyebrows tightly furrowed together. For a long moment, he said nothing then,

"Is there anyway you can check?" And though he was loathe to speak the word, he did so anyway, "magic?"

Merlin blinked in surprise, not used to being asked to help in that way..

"I think so." He closed his eyes for a moment, wrackin his brain for the right spell. "I've got it."

"Well hurry up then!" Arthur muttered, old impatience coming flooding hack.

Closing his eyes, Merlin immersed himself in the flow of his magic and whispered the words needed in the strange, lilting language. In his minds eye, he flew rapidly upwards, until he was hovering above the trees. Further ahead, he could see a camp, but something was wrong about it, horribly wrong, for scattered around, dashed up against the rocks, were the bodies of slaughtered innocents, arrows in their chests. It got worse. Around their group, on the rocks above and among the dead, clear as day, was a band of soldiers, armed to the teeth, moving straight towards them. They were trapped.

At this realisation, Merlin let go of the flow of magic, staggering slightly as he returned to his own body, aware of Arthur watching him.

"Well?" urged the king, uregntly.

Unable to speak Merlin shook his head, stood bent double and gasping for breath as though he had just run a great distance. He felt a hand grasp hks shoulder, shakinnhim slightly. "Well? What's the matter?"

"Soldiers." He wheezed, "Surrounding us. Trapping us."

Arthurs head shot up, suddenly alert.

"What about the villagers?" he asked, although the sorrow lining his face showed that he already knew the answer.

"All dead. It looked like the work of archers"

The king stamped his foot, visibly annoyed over how easily they had been trapped. Merlin stood up straighter, appearing to have recovered.

"If we go back the way we came, there are fewer of them. I'd guess they were expecting usnto walk straighf into it. We m7ght stand a chance of outrunning them that way. The sides are too steep to climb and besides, we neednthe hores."

Arthur barely spent a moment to consider this then nodded, once.

"Well?"A cocky voice piped up, from directly behind them. Simultaneously, they span around to come face to face with Gwaine, who stood, feet planted firmly to the floor, hands on his hips. "Is it a trap?" The knight looked at ease, as he always did, but in a brief moment something akin to fear flickered through his eyes.

Speaking loud enough for allto hear, the king nodded.

"Yes. We're surrounded."

The knights, who had been silent up until then, began to murmer amongst themselves, glancing around for the enemy. Meanwhile, Gwaine Hegan to curse, venting his opinion aloud, but to no one in particular,

"I knew it!"

"They're getting closer." Merlin warned, voice low, he keen hearing enabling him to hear things others could not. Arthur drew his sword from it's sheath, having placed it there at the start of their conversation.

"With me!" he called, setting off in a sprint down the gully, the knights close behind.

Their blind run m6st have only lasted for a couple of minutes, although it felt longer. A stitch burnt in Merlin's, breath coming in ragged gasps. All the time they were aware of the rocks, the branches and the nettles. Boots thudded on the ground, armour screeched as metal ground against metal and the risk of falling debris was just one of a number of fears. Bellowing war cries, as loud as the screams of a wraith being pulled from the netherworld, reverberated up the ravine, alarming loud. Spurred on by an unwillingness to fight, the ran faster and faster, until their urroundings flowed passed in an untangible blur. Just a few strides in front of Merlin, who was right at the back of the charging group, was Gwaine, who seemed barely out of breath, dark hair streaming backwards. He didn't see a branch that lay across the path and so he tripped. The blood drained from his face as he hit the ground, arm twisting violently with an audible crack.

"Wait!" Merlin bellowed, now at the fallen knights side. Without word he pulled his friend to his feet, trying to ignore how weak he looked.

The rest of the group had almost completely disappeared from view, and the noise from behind was growing louder and louder.

"Come on!" Merlin urged, forcing the pair of them back into a run. Gwaine stumbled, face pale, clearly in a state of shock. From the rear, the cries were increasing in volume, from ahead there was the sudden clamour of steel upon steel. The fight came into view as they neared the mouth of the valley and even from a distance, he coukd tell that it was, for now, going well. The scarlet capes clearly outnumbered the brown, the latter falling like raindrops in a the clearing neared, Merlin shived Gwaine away from him, confident that his friend would be Ok.

He shuddered to a halt, then span around until he faced the opposite dirction, looking down the narrow path. A large group of soldiers, some 40 strong, and armed to the teeth, were becoming clearer by the second.

Acting on instinct alone, he immersed himself in the stream of magic that followed him, and directed the spell at the rock face, chanting an incantation through his breathlessness. If he could block the route, it would buy them enough time to escape and return to Camelot. His eyes glowed amber as the last syllable fell from his lips.

The effect was almost instantaneous. With a boom like a hammer striking an anvil, cracks appeared among the rocks, fracturing the structure. The sides tumbled inwards to the sound of screaming men, but within moments, the path was covered and the only signs it had been there was the dust rising between the gaps in the haphazard heap. But still the cracks kept of spreading, the magic kept on tugging at his mind. Powerless to do anything, Merlin watched as the looming walls around him became littered with jagged lines.

Even though there wasn't a chance he would escape, that didnt't stop him from trying, and he backpeddaled furiously, even as the rocks fell.

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Well? What did you think?

As I said before, all reviews are greatly appreciated.


	7. Scarlet Cloaks

**AN: Sorry for the wait!**

**Enjoy and dont forget to send me a review.**

**This is the first time I have tried something like this, so I hope I did Ok**

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Arthur burst out into the clearing at the end of the gully, meeting a man clad in brown armour, brandishing an axe. Wasting no time, he swung his sword, bringing it down upon the man's chest, causing him to fold into it's deadly embrace. The harsh scraping of metal against metal, sword on sword told him that all around, his knights were fighting similar men, even as another wave of them rushed out of the trees towards them. Cursing silently, he leapt into their attack, whirling and twirling around, sword swinging, blood pumping fiercly as the battle consumed him. His heart hammered against his armour plated chest as he dealt blow after blow. For a moment there was no one in front of him, no one baying for his blood. Surrounded by bodies, he looked at the rest of the group. Outnumbered, his knights were faring badly. Several had already fallen, but still they fought, making up the numbers in courage. As a result, the ground was littered with more brown coats than red. Even so, if anymore turned up, they would have no chance. He span around to face the gully, hearing a bellowing cry emit from it.

Emerging from between the rocks was his servant and Gwaine, the latter of which was being supported. He watched, unable to move as Merlin threw the knight forwards, into the floor, where he quickly became the target of an attack. Unwilling to watch his friend die at the hands of these men, he leapt to Gwaines defense, dimly aware of Merlin yelling something in a strange language. He plunged his sword into the belly of the last man, when a sound like thunder boomed in his ears. Looking up, he saw Merlin stood in the narrow opening, arms raised, rocks tumbling down, silencing the oncoming swarm. In a heartbeat, he realised something had gone terribly wrong. Even though the gully was now completely blocked, the rocks still fell. A light shower of dust fell onto his friends head, then a few pebbles slipped.

"Merlin!" Arthur roared, in a desperate bid to warn him of the danger.

The warlock turned and tried to bolt, but it was already too late. Large rocks, boulders really, tumbled downwards, landing with a deafening crack, obscuring his view. Dust clouds billowed up as they hit the ground, even as Arthur leapt forwards, trying to reach his friend before they did.

In a split second, their eyes locked and to Arthur's immense surprise, a strange calm had entered the other mans eyes, almost as though he was accepting his face, before he could no longer be seen.

"Not Merlin..." he gasped.

Strong arms grabbed him from behind, stopping him from rushing forward. Why? Didn't they understand that they had to reach him? He fought against the pressure, tears streaming down his face, tears of fear, pain and anguish.

"Let me go!" he screamed, finally losing control.

"No. There's nothing you can do!" he heard a voice say, close to his ear, "He's gone."

"No!" Arthur broke free of Gwaine's grip, sprinting forwards until he came to face with a sheer cliff face. What had once been an opening in the gully, was completely filled with rocks of all sizes. Anyone in there would've been killed instantly. But still he refused to accept it.

He threw himself at the rubble, hands and feet desperately searching for purchase. He slipped, falling heavily, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

"Get me my horse!" he shouted, then turned back to the rock face. Unbuckling his sheat, he ran at the sheer wall and leapt up, but missed again fell back to the floor, tears clouding his vision.

He snatched a set of reins from the hands of one of his knights, not pausing long enough to see who it was nor take in his bloodied face. He swung himself into the saddle and was somewhat surprised when he noticed Gwaine doing the same.

As a way of explaining, the knight said

"I'll go along this ridge, you can do the other."

Surprising even himself, Arthur nodded and steered his horse into a canter, following the dim outline of the destroyed gorge. If he could get there quick enough, Merlin could still be saved. He was going to be OK. He had to be. Scanning the scene before him,he looked down at the wreckage, but all was still.

Bodies, or at least remainders of, lay strewn around the edges; a glove here and a helmet there. It continued onward for several hundred metre's, and only then did Arthur realise just how powerful the magic must have been. He turned the horse around and followed the same route back, desperately searching for signs of life. But still, he saw nothing. A wave of grief poured over him, and he slid down from the horse, into the ground. The animal snorted and trotted away, but he barely noticed.

Why should he? Merlin was gone. Stupid, Clumsy, Brave Merlin. His best friend and the only person in the world, aside from Guinevere. He simply couldn't be dead. Not Merlin. He'd reappear in a moment from behind a rock or tree and Arthur would yell at him for scaring him like that, probably insult him, but then they'd hug and each would just be so pleased to see the other alive. He sunk to his knees at the edge of the clearing, staring out over the gully, ignoring the others as they began the ardous process of clearing up after the battle. The smell of wood smoke filled the air as fires began to burn and bodies were disposed of. There was a low chatter as the men began to discuss the sudden turn of events, and still Arthur waited, waited for his friend who was sure to return.

It was almost completely dark when Gwaine found him, sat on the ground, staring into oblivion. The king felt cold to touch, the only sign that he was still alive being the rise and fall of his chest.

"Come on." His voice, usually loud and full of joy, was soft and gentle. "There's nothing more you can do today."

"No." Arthur shook his head. "He'll be here."

Gwaine closed his eyes, a single leaking out from under the lid.

"I searched all day. There's nothing. Merlin..."

The pale figure knealt next to him let out a strangled sob

"He isn't coming back."

The king shook his head.

"No. You don't understand. I promised Gaius I'd bring him home. He'll be here. He always is."

The knight sighed, resistin the urge to burst into tears.

"We will find him and we will take him home. But in the morning. For now, we must rest."

He tugged at Arthurs hand, barely disguising his sigh of relief when the king relented.

Wordlessly, they staggered back to the clearing, two broken men, one in body, both in spirit.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! Next chappter will be up in a few days.**


	8. The return

**AN: Sorry about the delay. Life appears to be getting in the way at the moment.**

**Anyway, thanks for waiting. As usual I don't own Merlin etc, and apologies for any spelling errors. **

**Enjoy and, jf you have time, leave a review.**

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Arthur sat staring out into the darkness, arms crossed tightly across his chest, head resting on his knees, the campfire having long since died down to a pile of ashes. He felt completely numb, thoughts consumed by only one thing, one person; Merlin. The stupid, selfless idiot had only gone and gotten himself...no not killed. They didn't know that for certain. Not yet anyway. They would find him, alive and well. After all, he had been lost so many times before, it was impossible to even consider that this time he was gone forever. His thoughts followed this same endless circle, chasing each other round again and again, as all the while the night wore on. In this numb mindset, he barely noticed the stirring from within the camp that he was supposed to be guarding. Someone stumbled across to him and sank to the ground, holding his arm awkwardly away from his body. Arthur didn't acknowledge his prescence, and neither spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.

That is, until Gwaine did what he always did and broke the silence.

"We'll find him and we'll take him home. Tomorrow we'll return to Camelot, get some men, some equipment, some supplies and we'll come back here."

The young king nodded, seeming to agree, despite the fact that he really had no intention of leaving this place.

"He was a good man," Gwaine continued, "braver than most of us." He paused as unsaid words, mainly of agreement passed between them. "Don't let his death be in vain."

Audibly, Arthur choked out a sob, a single tear trailing down his cheek. "What do you mean?"

When Gwaine spoke again, his voice was heavy, filled with a sort of sadness.

"He never used his magic, even after the truth was known. I think he had become so used to hiding it, so used to the fear that went alongside it, that he simply couldn't help it. The habit wouldn't break and the fear hadn't left. But still he served you."

"He was scared of me?" Arthur asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach. His knuckles turned white as he subconsciously gripped his forearms, refusing the look Gwaine in the eye.

"Not of you." Gwaine replied softly. "More afraid of losing you as a friend. He was worried you wouldn't accept him for who he was. Even after you knew the truth, he clung to this belief. Don't forget he grew up constantly facing the threat of execution if he was discovered."

"I know. He didn't tell me because he didn't want me to have to decide what to do with him. He was never scared of dying." A wave of anger rose up within him; a tsunami of fury, dircted at himself. Ever since they had met, he had teased Merlin mercilessly about his apparant phobia of the battlefield, when his servant had perhaps been even braver than he was. How many times had he gone rushing into the middle of the fray, weaponless and unwilling to use his magic, just to save his friends life? More times than anyone else Arthur knew, that was for sure.

"It's too late." He whispered.

"Maybe for Merlin. But not for everyone. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed." The knight struggled to his feet, and stumbled way, leaving the king alone with his thoughts.

Inevitably, dawn broke. The food had run out, so there was no breakfast to be had and they really lacked the weapons needed to go hunting. The knights quickly broke up the camp, securing bedrolls and preparing the horses, but still Arthur hadn't moved. Sir Olwen, a fairly young knight walked over and hesitantly tapped the king on the shoulder. Without waiting for a response, he said

"Sire, we need to leave."

"No." Arthur whispered. "We're staying here."

"But the men, sire. Most of us are injured, there's no food, no medical supplies. We need to get back to Camelot."

By now the king was on his feet, and stood, towering over Olwen, his voice rising dangerously.

"No!" he yelled, causing the other man to back away, alarmed. "I'm the king and I saybwe are staying." Normally, he would have felt childish pulling rank like that. But today, he didn't care.

Gwaine had appeared in front of Arthur, taking the place of the young knight.

"Yes, you're our king, but you are also our friend. You're upset and angry, we all are, but now is not the time or place. We must get back."

Something stirred deep within Arthur and he felt a sudden sense of duty. He glared at Gwaine desperately trying to ignore th fact that the other man was right. He looked around at his men, taking in their battered and bloodied appearance, many sporting painful wounds. Heart tearing apart, he nodded.

Ignoring the sighs of relief that rose up at his desicion, he made his way to his horse. Tied next to it, was the dark coat of Merlin's mount, a pile of supplies still secured across it's back. He secured the reins ontk his saddle, not trusting anyone else to lead the faithful creature home.

The ride back to Camelot was one of the longest Arthur had ever experienced, but looking back, it felt like much of it hadn't actually taken place. No words were spoken, but none needed to be said as each man knew what the others were feeling. The void left behind by their fallen comrade was constantly there, a shadow that nobody liked. They didn't stop; not a single person had broken the prevailing silence since they had set off, and so the castle came into view mid-afternoon. He glanced across at the horse he was leading, then forced himself to look away as he fought to maintain his composure, grip tightening on the reins, hands shaking. This was going to be hard, far harder than he could ever have imagined. For the first time in a long time, he didn't want to go home.

But return they must. With each step the group took, they drew closer and closer to the castle, hearts heavy, mind numb.

The courtyard was strangley hushed as they entered. There were still people milling around, but they spoke in whispers, if at all, as though they knew that something had gone amiss. Guinevere was stood on the steps leading into the castle itself, surrounded by an assortment of knights, and, of course, Gaius. Sir Leon leaned across to Gwen and murmered something, causing an expression of shock to flicker across her face. He saw the old physican scan the group, becoming more and more frantic as he noticed his ward was missing. Wordlessly, he drew his horse to a halt and slid from the saddle, to the ground below. A deathly silence fell as all movement seemed to cease.

"It was a trap. Merlin...he saved us." His voice threatened to break as his composure almost left him completely. "But he paid the highest price." Looking directly into Gaius' eyes he finished, softly, "I'm sorry."

Not caring who saw, he finally let the tears break free, no longer caring who saw him or what they thought. He felt arms wrap around him, hugging him tight, their sweet smell filling his consciouness. Through the thick veil, he saw Gaius, looking completely broken, lead Gwaine away, even as a group of knights ushered him inside, to his chambers, out of sight of the citizens of Camelot who were left wondering about what would happen next.

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**That is all for this chapter. Special thanks to the guys at Merlin Mania. Your comments earlier gave me the inspiration I needed to finally finish chapter 8.**

**Goodbye for now!**


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